I am fairly certain Dr. Ted Leon is getting a blowjob just off camera in this commercial because nobody should ever look that happy, ever. In fact, you really shouldn’t even be making that face while getting a blowjob! I prefer the angry look, the one where you look like you are pissed at the person servicing you. I sometimes even shake my head in disgust. It’s the same look I use while air-drumming to Rush songs. I used this facial expression once when I went to a store on a Sunday and it was closed. People still close up shop on Sundays (blowjob face)?
Give me the cranky antics and mispronunciations of Wilford Brimley any day over this grinning rube. Awwwwww, does it hurt your little finger to test your glucose levels? WHAM! Punch in the mouth from Wilford, you sissy! Mr. Brimley will literally stare at you until your “dia-beat-is” squeezes out your butt and runs away in tears. Wilford Brimley will reach down your throat with his big, elephant hoof hands, that smell like mustache and Scotch, and yank the diabetes right out through your mouth, you fucking Mary.
Obviously I have a great understanding of diabetes.
OK, before Rick Bayless tries to sue me, let me CLEARLY state, I DO NOT think there is anything sexual or technically inappropriate between Rick and his daughter Lanie… however let me also CLEARLY go on record and say ewww.
I mean come on Rick, you are obviously unable to see what everyone else sees. These two giggle and flirt back and forth worse than Jerry Seinfeld and Sheila on the “Shmoopy” episode. You hang up first. No, you hang up first. No, YOU hang up first. It’s creepy.
What’s that, you don’t agree? Well try this one on for size… there is an episode of Chef Bayless’ program “Mexico – One Plate at Time” where he decides to dig a fire pit in his yard while Lanie yucks it up inside, pretending to know what the fuck she’s talking about. Rick strips down to his wife beater (a woman’s wife beater, not the cool ‘Raging Bull’ kind) and gets all sweaty shoveling in the dirt. It’s borderline gay porn. Meanwhile, Lanie is blabbing on about some bullshit in the kitchen and actually says “Speaking of hot, let’s see how my dad is doing.”
Let’s take the whole father/daughter sexual tension horribleness out of the equation and talk about the other thing wrong with this picture. Why the fuck am I listening to a 13-year-old tell me how to make salsa? You know what Lanie, thanks but I think I can take it from here. Aren’t you missing a therapist appointment or something?
Oh boy, I’m ready for the hate mail to pour in on this one. “You’re a jerk and you live in your mom’s basement and these dolls are beautiful and you’re just jealous that nobody ever loved you, I hope you never have kids, blah blah blah.” There I just saved you all that time.
I’m forced to write this while sitting on the toilet because it’s impossible to look at these creepy dolls without shitting at least a tiny bit. I should have warned you! I’m sorry you now have poop-filled pants.
OK, this shit is fucked up! First of all, these dolls are referred to as “Reborn Babies” and there’s a whole subculture of insane psychopaths buying and making these creepy plastic monsters. The process of making a realistic baby doll is known as “reborning” or “newborning” and it usually takes place in the darkest corner of Hell. Even Satan is like “Um… yeah, I’m going to go see what Hitler and Dahmer are up to for a few hours while you gals finish up… um… whatever it is exactly that… uh, you’re doing over there.” Then the great beast slowly backs out of the room timidly.
OK, maybe I didn’t work that out very well but my brain is about to melt thanks to finding the world’s scariest photo.
I want to be delicate here because the photographer had good intentions (if you call taking a photo of your grandfather on his deathbed a good idea) but holy shit do I wish I never saw this nightmare. I mean COME ON, it’s got everything you need to keep you up at night… exposed light bulb in a dark room, grainy black & white, mysterious little dolls, a crucifix and a dying grandfather who looks remarkably like he’s wearing a “Michael Myers” mask.
Blow it up at your own risk, I’m pretty sure it steals your soul.
Buckle up because you WILL have nightmares tonight.
I don’t like puppets. I especially don’t like puppets from the 70s and 80s. OK, I guess the puppets of Sesame Street were badass (not that piece of shit Elmo) but most other puppets from that era look like fucking burn victims. Burn victims who want to lure you into their van and stick you in a secret room under their back yard. I’m amazed that the children’s programming I watched as a kid didn’t cause me to go crazy and kill my parents in their sleep.
Let’s start with a show that, sadly, I grew up watching, Gigglesnort Hotel. In this hotel, a human named B.J. is forced to live and work with a dragon named “Dirty,” a bell boy named “Weird,” a faceless hunk of clay named “Blob” and a bunch of other freakish puppets. Truth be told, it’s a pretty shitty hotel and I can’t imagine it getting more than 1.5 stars on Yelp. I would also like to mention that occasionally a bad guy shaped like a lemon would throw bad jokes out of a helicopter and cause anyone who read the jokes to become horribly deformed. But have no fear, “Weird” would become a superhero named “The Shusher” whose only power was to quietly shush people. WHAT? My parents are lucky they got out alive.
One of the best ways to make a puppet creepy is to give it human hands. I can’t figure out how old these horrible creatures from Peppermint Park are supposed to be. They look like they belong in the AARP and yet the sight of bubbles sends them into an excited frenzy. I also like that they suggest putting newspapers on the floor before blowing bubbles indoors. Huh? Is that because the excitement is going to cause you to shit your little puppet pants?
I vaguely remember Outerscope II but I think I have pushed it way way back into that dark part of my brain that tries to forget such horrible things. In this scene, Henry, who looks like a young George Costanza, falls in love with a rocking horse and fucks it in the ass while the other children read a diary entry about a dying Indian. Hurry kids, you’re going to be late for school!
This clip is supposed to prevent house fires but if I saw this as a kid the first thing I would do is burn my house down to keep the demons away. This clip reminds me of this fetish.
And this brings us to the perfect storm of creepy…
Puppets + Clowns + Jesus + Hugs = Your worst childhood memory.
Today is my birthday, so you are lucky I am even taking the time to write about this creepy bullshit.
Do you know what a “dakimakura” is? If you answered yes to this question and then looked across the room to see your pillow girlfriend sitting on the couch watching TV, I kindly ask you to drive to Home Depot, buy a chain saw and mutilate your entire crotch area. God damn it, I don’t want to live in a world where men marry pillows. Global warming can’t come fast enough.
Sure, I dated a few tube socks in high school, but I never took them to prom or bought them flowers. I may have made out with my pillow a few times in junior high while watching scrambled porn on channel 44, but that was just young love. It never went further then heavy petting and casual dating. To be honest, I had a fear of commitment back then. How could I be sure this was THE pillow I was meant to be with for the rest of my life? I was young and there were lots of linens out there to explore. OK if you want the truth, I had my heart broken by a pillow when I was 16 and I don’t really feel like talking about it!
I give up. What in the fucking fuck is going on? I honestly don’t know what is worse, a lamb born with a human face or a straight edge douchewad with tribal earrings and a fucking Adam Duritz back tattoo. For once, I am speechless. I need you to decide for me while I drink myself to death.
I thought I was going to write about adults who still wear giant class rings but I stumbled upon something so disturbing and underground that I feel it is my duty as an American to shine a light on this ugly and repulsive phenomenon. I have just discovered there are graduation supplies for homeschooled weirdos. I will never be the same again.
I’m sorry but if you are homeschooled there are a few things you are going to miss out on. For example, unless you plan on having sex with your sister, there is a pretty good chance you won’t be getting laid at your prom. Truth be told, I did not get laid at my prom, but at least I had a chance! I had no chance. I did, on the other hand, manage to drive all the way home with my headlights off because I was so nervous, so I’ve got that going for me.
I mean, what could your graduation ceremony even consist of? Your mom draped in a bed sheet, reading off a long list of your high school accomplishments while standing on a kitchen chair? It’s not too difficult to be valedictorian or captain of the Bible team when it’s just you and your mom sitting alone in the kitchen 5 days a week.